<TITLE>13. Par 48-51</TITLE>L-48 Men wants to just see some gallant display of love, that great power that God has for you that conquers.
I used to be hunt in the North Woods years ago. And, oh, how I loved to hunt. My conversion never took it out of me. I just love to hunt. And I used to go up in the North Woods to hunt up there with a fellow named Burt Caul, one of the best walkers I ever walked, good track man, fine hunter.
But he was the cruel-hearted-est man that I ever met. Oh, he was wicked in his heart. And he used to shoot little fawns just to make me feel bad. Now, the law requires if you want a fawn, get it. But not a dozen.
I was game warden for years. I loved wild animals. And I--I'm a conservationist. And Burt would just shoot them just to be mean. And he'd say, "Oh, you chicken-hearted preacher." He said, "Billy, you'd make a--you're a good woodsman, but you're too chicken-hearted."
I said, "Burt, I want to be a--I want to be right in what I do." If it's hunting, or dealing, or whatever it is, I want to be a Christian. "Oh," he said, "you're just too chicken-hearted."

L-49 One year I went up there, and he had invented some kind of a little old whistle. And he could put that in his mouth and go just exactly like a little baby deer crying, like a little fawn. And he'd cry like that. And I said, "Burt, you're not going to use that, are you?"
He said, "Oh, go on, get next to yourself, Billy." Said, "Well, sure I'm going to use it."
I thought, "Surely he won't do it."

L-50 We hunted about a half a day, hadn't seen a track. We come to a little opening. Now, deers don't come in the opening in daytime when hunting season's in. Because they're afraid.
And Burt stooped down; there was a little snow there about knee deep. No, maybe in the drift. And so he stooped down. I wondered what he was going to do. And he went down in his pocket, and he got this little whistle. And I thought, "Oh, surely, he's not. Surely, he's not going to do that." And he blowed this whistle, and it sounded just like a little baby fawn.
Well, just about forty or fifty yards from there, a great big beautiful doe (That's the mother deer.) stood up. Oh, her great graceful look, she had big veins in her face here, and her big pretty brown eyes, those great big ears. She begin looking around. She heard a baby's cry. She wouldn't have done that, now, if it had--she hadn't of been a mother.

L-51 But see, the mother instinct in her made her call, answer that baby's call, rather. And I thought, Oh, and he looked at me kindly sheepish, grinning. I turned my head. I thought, "Oh, I can't see him do it." And I looked and the deer was watching. What happened? She's listening for that baby. She was a mother. See? By nature she was a mother. Fear had no hold then. Love cast away fear.
Oh, if we could be the Christian that that deer was a mother. She made some steps. I thought, Oh, my. Burt lowered his rifle and stooped his head. I just stood still by a bush; I thought, "Oh, my, he can't do that." She walked right out in that open. She couldn't help it. Do you hear me? She couldn't help it. She was a mother. That baby was in trouble. It was her nature. She wasn't a hypocrite. She wasn't putting it on. It was her nature. She was a mother by nature.


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